


Paper Crowns

by DeanOh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gay Sex, M/M, Sex, Slow Build, Thief AU, anyway there's not gonna be any ice around here lmfao, i have no idea how to tag this, student!yuri, student!yuuri, teacher!victor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanOh/pseuds/DeanOh
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is a brilliant thief, and unfortunately, gets caught stealing from a very important man. Malnourished, he spends his time in prison until one day...he's saved.He's free.As free as he can get.Under the wing of Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri learns the ways of a high-class thief, one who knows how to manipulate their target, how to seduce them, how to steal from them without getting caught. It's thrilling to know Victor's eyes are on him, the praise turning into gentle touch as Yuuri gets better.And sometimes, only touch isn't enough.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

When he's dreaming, he's safe.

He drifts in and out of focus, colors blurring together and it's hard to understand whether he's awake and breathing, or just floating in memories. A few thoughts catch his attention. Smiling faces. The feel of hunger. Long, nimble fingers gripping a bursting wallet inside of a pocket that isn't his own.

He feels hands on him, roughly pulling him up, a tight grip in his dark hair. Feeling all of this, Yuuri Katsuki doesn't move when they drag him out of an iron cell, his feet bruised and a few of his precious fingers abnormally crooked.

Yuuri responds to water down his throat and blinks slowly at the guards who are forcing it down without remorse. The water feels like freedom, but once again, Yuuri discards it as a memory.

Then suddenly he's cold; freezing, _gasping_ for air. As his mind whirls into life, he chokes on even more water around him. Yuuri's naked, shivering against the flowing waterfall in an empty shower room. Staring at his shaking hands, Yuuri looks around in a haze, still standing beneath the water, letting it drown him.

He looks down at his feet and sees diluted red. The water slowly begins warming up, stinging his back, and he hisses at the pain.

 _Wounds_ , he remembers. Fifteen lashes for stealing. Ten for running away the first time he got caught.

God, the warmth consumes him and he stops shivering, instead looks around for soap or anything he could clean himself up. His stomach hurts, and his brain is still a little fuzzy at the edges, but he understands that getting a luxury like this here is a gift and he should use it before someone takes it away.

Finding nothing, he starts scrubbing the dirt off with his fingernails, rubbing his skin red. His head starts throbbing, but he remains conscious and looks around the shower room. It's got six shower heads, only one of them working, and a door to the left where he can see a small window. There are two guards standing with their backs turned. Yuuri doesn't dwell on the semantics, and enjoys his shower.

One second he's sighing against the stream, the other he's left shivering in the dim lights of the room. The water stops as abruptly as it started, and the guards come rushing in, throwing a rough towel at Yuuri.

“Hurry up,” one of them snarls, holding a tazer in his hands. The other holds a fresh set of linen clothing. “We ain't got all day.”

Yuuri cleans up, embarrassed of his stark nakedness, but does as he's told.

Once he's freshly dressed up, they cuff him and walk him out of the shower room.

But they don't bring him back to his cell, no. Not even close. Yuuri finds himself standing in front of the Warden's office, the door painted a polished forest green. He's about to ask what the hell is going on, when the door opens and he's ushered inside.

The office is nicely furnished; red armchairs situated in front of the Warden's table, bookshelves lining up the walls, a lush carpet beneath his feet. The Warden sits with his hands on the table, smiling uncomfortably at the guests who nonchalantly turn in their armchairs to see Yuuri.

A woman, barely older than Yuuri, stares at him with her warm brown eyes, chestnut hair pulled in a tight ponytail. She raises a hand to stop her companion from rising out of his seat, and he's just as welcoming as her although he's twice as big as Yuuri.

The guards leave, and Yuuri is left with these three, his heart hammering against his chest.

“Are you sure?” the bulky man asks the woman nervously.

She nods, eyes never leaving Yuuri's.

“Mrs Nishigori,” the Warden coughs. She abruptly directs her attention to him. “My apologies, but I'd be honored to find you a better candidate if you gave me some time to, well, _look_ for one.

She glares at the Warden. “We have orders, sir.”

The Warden is silent for a few beats. “Surely Mr Nikiforov would reconsider. It's a fairly high price he's offering for a petty street thief.”

The man next to Mrs Nishigori sighs. “If Nikiforov wants him, then he wants him. We're not here to disobey our boss.”

The woman smiles and looks back at Yuuri, who stands there wide eyed. “Come here,” she says, waving her hand. “Let me have a good look at you.”

Yuuri takes a deep breath, his whole world coming to a halt. He's no longer shivering, the fresh linen protecting him against the slight chill in the office. Even with his fingers broken, he manages to stand tall, back straight and hands curled into fists. “I'm not moving until someone explains what's going on,” he says, voice slightly wavering. He hasn't heard his own voice in months.

She smiles warmly at him. All it does is make Yuuri flinch. “Get him ready for travel,” she says and gets up from her seat. Dressed in a long crow black coat, she walks over to Yuuri and ignores how her companion mumbles in protest. “Nikiforov wants him to be there by sundown.”

Then, she grabs his hand, presses a quick finger in one spot above Yuuri's wrist and suddenly, Yuuri's head swims.

He's out like a light before he can mutter a response.

* * *

Waking up with a pounding head, he barely registers the soft pillow or the satin sheets covering his lithe body. Yuuri's wrist pulses, dragging him out of his sleepy demeanor, eyes refusing to open even though the smell around him is heavenly.

Yuuri swears there's a tangy smell of cooked meat and there are unfamiliar spices tickling the tip of his nose. There's a distinct sweet and savory smell of cooked apples as well.

Groaning, he lets himself enjoy the moment before he opens his eyes. Lets this dream go a little while longer. Before panic sets in, he inhales a lungful, the sweetness lingering at the back of his throat.

There's a snap of fingers, and he's wide awake.

The room he's in is so different from his prison cell, he's instantly aware of every little detail. The creamy colored walls are decorated with landscape paintings, and once he sits up he sees a full-body mirror in front of a king-sized bed, everything arranged in the same warm pastels. Yuuri's breathing is harsh, and he scrambles in his bed, completely naked under the sheets. Chest tightening, he notices the woman again, the one from the Warden's office, sitting at the foot of his bed, holding a tray of carefully plated food.

Yuuri wants to scream, but can't find the energy to do so.

She smiles.

“I know you're scared,” she starts, her voice calming and slow. “But I want you to know you're not in any danger. I would like you to calm down before I can allow you to speak.”

Yuuri grabs for his throat, and tries to croak out something, _anything_. Nothing comes out through his mouth, and it only makes it worse.

He's hyperventilating when the woman sets the tray down on the table next to the bed, and approaches Yuuri, who trashes against her touch. She methodically presses her fingers to the back of Yuuri's head, forces him to look her in the eye.

“Relax,” she mutters, the warmth of her brown irises seeping through and making Yuuri's heart gradually return to beating a steady rhythm. “That's it, buddy. You're almost there.”

Yuuri's breath slows down, his hands fall down from his throat and he's more confused than anxious now. She places her free hand upon his chest and taps it a few times.

“I didn't want to freak you out like this,” she says apologetically. “But I'm under strict orders to see to your health. Takeshi and I didn't want to wake you up this early, but your body needs sustenance. You can go back to sleep once you're full.”

She points at the tray and Yuuri's mouth waters.

“Eat,” she urges him. “I'll try to explain what you're doing here while you're at it.”

Yuuri doesn't wait to be told twice and moves to take the tray from the table, situating it on top of his lap. There's a fine steak with mashed potatoes and an orange sauce, hot spicy soup in a pretty porcelain bowl, and a slice of apple pie. He digs in, his stomach painfully throbbing as he's chowing everything down in a hurry.

Once he's slowed down, Yuuri looks up to see the woman watching him, now having moved to the foot of the bed again.. He chews on the slice of meat in his mouth as she coughs into her hand.

“My name is Yuuko Nishigori, and I'm a trained therapist,” she explains. “The man with me was my husband, Takeshi. We're working for a man called Victor Nikiforov, if you've heard of him.”

Yuuri shakes his head after she pauses.

“Alright,” Yuuko says. “What you do need to know now is that you stole a wallet from him.”

Yuuri stops eating.

“No no!” Yuuko quickly holds her hands up in defense. “It's not what you think. He didn't bring you here for revenge or anything, quite the contrary. He was impressed with your skill, especially when no one's ever robbed him this blatantly before.”

Yuuri chews once before raising his eyebrow.

Yuuko places her hands down. “He paid a great deal to get you out of prison,” Yuuko says. “Victor wishes to speak to you once you're rested.”

He probably looks puzzled enough so that Yuuko snaps her fingers in a loud pop and Yuuri finds himself able to speak.

“This has got to be some kind of a mind trick,” Yuuri says, when he's sure she won't be doing anything else to him. “I'm dreaming.”

Yuuko bites her lip in wonder. “You're not.”

“What _are_ you?” Yuuri asks, convincing himself nothing here is real, and he's talking to an imaginary person, eating imaginary food. “Why couldn't I speak? Did you give me drugs to calm me down?”

“All will be clear once you've rested,” she says, and takes the tray off of him. Yuuri almost flinches at her touch, but when she drags her fingertips down his cheek, he can't help but feel drowsy. “I'll wake you up for breakfast.”

He drowns in black again.

* * *

This time, he wakes up without anyone to help him, and his skin feels clammy with sweat. It's fairly warm, and as Yuuri looks around to see he's still in the same room as before, he figures he must have been dreaming the whole time.

But, his back stings against the satin, making the memories of a stolen wallet and a dark prison cell startle him into action.

Yuuri stands up, gathering the sheets around him like a cape, and he walks forward, toes sinking into the fluffy carpet. There's a window and it's open, letting the warm wind inside, the curtains flowing gracefully in tandem. Staring out, he sees a vast land of dark green, a forest looming in the distance, and Yuuri finds himself high up in a castle-like building, illuminated by a thousand lights around the area.

There's no one in his room, and Yuuri steps over to the door, his heart threatening to jump out through his ribs. He reaches for the handle, turns it and the door opens with a click.

Yuuri releases a breath he was holding and steps outside, wrapping himself tighter in the sheets.

There's a corridor, stretching long and wide to both sides. Yuuri halts, listens for any kind of sound but it's eerily quiet. Leaving the door open behind him, he walks forward.

There are a few large windows further down the corridor, all casting some light inside. Yuuri moves slow, deliberately cautious of every shadow. He's been a thief for years, so he uses some of his skills to observe his surroundings while being aware of threats. The silence stretches on as he pads down to the end of one side, leaving him standing next to swirling stairs, staring at the abyss below. It's so dark downstairs, that Yuuri debates whether it'd be wise to try and see what's lurking there.

Gripping the rail, Yuuri's knees shake, and cold sweat runs down his back. He's about to take a step onto the stairs, wants to be brave, when in a second there's an arm wrapping around his waist, and a gentle breath passes over his cheek.

He doesn't get to be surprised when the same person puts a hand on Yuuri's mouth to stop him from screaming. This time, he's still got his voice.

Yuuri bites the hand, and punches his captor in the stomach.

He runs.

Down the stairs Yuuri goes, almost tripping on the sheets, still clutching onto them for dear life. Running into the darkness, Yuuri trusts his instincts and heightened senses to lead him to safety. Hearing the rushed footsteps behind him, adrenaline rushes through his veins, letting him risk it and run faster. Down the stairs, there's another corridor. Yuuri trips halfway through, but quickly scrambles back to his feet, blinking against the dark.

The footsteps are gone, but Yuuri doesn't trust the silence.

He moves, completely blind, and hits a warm body.

“Whoah,” there's a voice now when the same hands trap him in an embrace, and Yuuri struggles to get out of this restraint. “You're not supposed to be up yet.”

Yuuri tries to bite again, but there's a laugh and then the grip tightens. Yuuri can't move. “Get your hands off me!” he hisses angrily.

“Oh no,” the man says, his voice cheery. “If I let you go, you'll just bite me again.”

“I'm gonna rip your throat out,” Yuuri threatens, but the man doesn't budge. Yuuri tries to move, but to no avail.

It's too dark to see who's holding him, but Yuuri just about makes out a heart-shaped face, and short hair. “Feisty,” the man says, wondering. “Strong, as well. Please don't rip my throat out.”

Yuuri grunts and tries to muster enough strength to ease the man's grip. Nothing works. “If you don't let me go now-”

“What? What will you do?” the amused man says. “Let me guess. You'll kick me, run, and somehow pass the dogs outside, run through the forest of mines-”

“...mines?”

“-not to mention how would you pass through the guard posts around the area you don't know? Do you have a map, or a 6th sense-”

“Stop.”

“-oh, and long-range guns, what will you do about those? Steal them, like you did my wallet-”

“Stop! Wait...your wallet?”

The man stops for a second. Then, he releases Yuuri.

Yuuri's eyes adjust to the darkness better now, and he sees a silhouette, a man taller than him with light hair and a curious smile. He's wearing a suit.

“Nice to meet you,” Victor Nikiforov says, holding out his hands as if for a hug. “And welcome to my home!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no fucking clue what I'm doing.  
> Please don't judge me, I'm not a native speaker, I know very little about English.  
> Also the title of this fic is from a song by Lewis Del Mar - Loud(y)


	2. Chapter 2

 

So much for escaping prison when you're locked again.

This time though, it's easier to breathe and his new pajamas are ridiculously soft against his dry skin. Yuuri doesn't move away from the door, ear pressed to the polished wood, carefully listening to the conversation outside.

“He could have hurt himself,” Victor says, voice muffled.

“I don't know how he managed to wake up without my aid,” Yuuko answers. Yuuri can barely hear anything, so he presses harder. “Never happened before. Not even with Yurio.”

“I told you he'd need more effort,” Victor says, shuffling. “Imagine what would happen if he was in full health.”

“I'm not...sure.”

“I want you to-”

Then, the conversation is hushed and Yuuri tries his best to listen.

Victor didn't say much after he introduced himself, just took out his phone and turned the flashlight on. In the dim light, he didn't look old at all. Older than Yuuri, yes, but handsomely grown. A man with calm features, ocean eyes and silver hair. Scary familiar. Yuuri's hands started hurting and he followed Victor back to his room like a puppy. Once in the room, Victor called someone on the phone, asked for pajamas, bandages and some tea.

Now, Yuuri's fingers are bandaged enough so it doesn't hurt. Victor had said he'd need a nurse to look after them later, when he's healthier. Yuuri didn't talk at all throughout their whole encounter, not trusting his words.

There's a key turning in the lock, and Yuuri scrambles to get back on his bed, pretending he hasn't moved. Yuuko walks inside followed by Victor, and in the lit up room, Yuuri tries to remember where he's seen Victor's face, etched into his mind so clearly, yet so far away. What a beautiful man, he thinks.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Yuuri,” Victor says, standing in the middle of the room. Yuuko looks comfortable enough to sit down on the bed, making Yuuri tense up. “I wanted to apologize for our encounter as well.”

“You mean your ambush,” Yuuri says, glaring at Victor.

The man just gives a bell-like chuckle.

“You should have been asleep until morning,” Yuuko explains, her expression soft. “Victor had an alarm system installed in your room to let us know if you were in trouble. Luckily, he found you before you could hurt yourself.”

Yuuri snorts and holds up his injured fingers. “ _Lucky_ you, my fingers were already broken.”

Victor's tense muscles are more than visible, as he looks unsure whether to step forward, or remain where he stands. “We're going to check them out-”

“Please stop talking,” Yuuri interrupts him, and Yuuko looks downright scandalized at his tone. “I want to know where I am, what the hell am I doing here, and what the _fuck_ is going on.”

Victor gapes for air, then looks at Yuuko, then back at Yuuri. “When you're healthy-”

“I am healthy _enough_ ,” Yuuri says, avoiding looking at his hands. “For the love of God, I'm freaking out here.”

Yuuko moves to put a comforting hand on Yuuri's shoulder, but he moves abruptly, situating himself at the other end of the bed. An expression of hurt passes through her face, but she quickly gathers herself up. “We didn't mean to scare you,” she says apologetically. “Mr Nikiforov wants you safe and sound before you're ready to hear him out.”

“What is it so important you need to tell me?” Yuuri says, looking directly at Victor. “I stole your wallet. You bought me off of prison. I don't need to be _safe and sound_ to know there's a catch.”

“Uh...” Victor bites his lip.

“Oh spit it out,” Yuuri urges on.

“You're not wrong, there is a catch,” Victor says, crossing his arms on his chest, a visible smile dancing in his eyes. Pauses. “It's a job offer.”

* * *

Looking in the mirror, he sees a man half his size. It's evident he hasn't been eating much, and the bones in his body feel like glass, almost too fragile to touch. Yuuri's dressed in new clothes, a suit too big on his weak body. The glow on his skin is gone, his cheeks look hollow, and there's no spark in his eyes. Somewhere along the way, he lost his glasses, so it's hard making out the details on his own body.

Yuuri fixes his tie and turns to see Victor, who holds a wine glass in his hand and his eyes are narrowed. Once Victor explained why he freed him from prison, it didn't take long for Yuuri to say yes. Recognition came easy enough when Victor told him about his line of work.

“I can't wear this,” Yuuri says, nervously tugging at his cuff-links. “I look like a man ready for a funeral.”

Victor clicks his tongue. “You'll grow into it.”

Yuuri stops observing himself in the mirror and drops into an armchair next to Victor's. “When do I start taking notes?” he asks, taking a new glass of wine from the table, hand shaking.

Victor shrugs, staring at Yuuri's effort to hold the glass. “From the looks of it, you're going to be doing a lot of reading for the next month or so. What did they feed you in prison?”

“Porridge.”

“Disgusting.”

“I asked for an upgrade, but you know, humor only takes you this far.”

Victor sips his wine thoughtfully. His long legs look perfect in the dark-navy suit, glossy shoes reflecting some light from the window. He looks like a portrait even in a bland room like this. “Who broke your fingers?”

Yuuri thinks back to that day, wincing at the memory. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“I can arrange an execution-”

“-no need,” Yuuri says, smiling into his glass. “Bones heal. Memories fade. I'll be okay.”

Silence looms between them, but it doesn't sting. It's strangely nice, sitting together like this.

“You're going to start training with other students as soon as your hands heal,” Victor says. “For now, we're going to have private lessons. I'll assign you some reading throughout the week, and you're free to roam the grounds as long as you don't cross the borders.”

Yuuri licks his lips. Victor follows the movement with his eyes, but says nothing else. “Why would I need to read _books_ for stealing?”

Victor shakes his head, amused. “You're not a street thief anymore, Yuuri. What we do here is learn whatever it takes to charm someone into thinking they're safe around you.”

“By pretending to be high-class escorts,” Yuuri snorts.

“Precisely,” Victor says, refilling his glass with lean fingers. “The key word here is _pretending_.”

And he _is_ good at pretending. Before Yuuri got caught, he'd see tabloids in the streets, watch television at the crap apartment he'd share with a few other people he'd steal with. Victor's escorts were never mentioned, but they were always there. Hands clasped with their customers, they all stood in the background of powerful men and women. Victor, however, stood in front. Smiling. Glowing.

“Why don't you just blackmail them for money?” Yuuri asks.

“Where's the fun in that?” Victor says, downing his wine to the bottom of the glass. Yuuri can't help but look at Victor's porcelain neck, his Adam's apple moving with the wine. "We're actors here, my dear student. We've got a spotlight on us, and we're not allowed to make any mistakes. We _earn_ our money –“

“Steal,” Yuuri corrects him. “Steal money.”

Victor laughs for a second before continuing. “It's thrilling and savory, stealing from the rich without them noticing. Trust me, it's a high you're going to want to chase after over and over and over again.”

Victor gets so excited his cheeks bloom in full red, and suddenly Yuuri's convinced. He wants to learn from this man, wants to do whatever it takes to feel that rush.

* * *

Yuuri takes a walk the same evening, this time the whole castle lit up and he can look around with no fear or worry.

He's still anxious thinking about Victor's offer, about joining the biggest escort company in the country. Thinking about his mother and father at home, his heart clenches. They're going to see the pictures, once they hit the magazines, there is no doubt in that.

Yuuri passes through the corridor he ran in before, and checks every open room he finds. There's a giant library, quiet unlit rooms with cushions and large mirrors, a gym with far too many tools and exercisers. He takes a note to come here when he's feeling less wound up. He's been eating well for a few days, and his energy has gone up significantly. Whatever they're giving him, he's munching down without tasting too much, just to keep the strength up. It proves difficult, especially when his stomach still hurts sometimes, and he throws up more than once.

On the first floor, Yuuri pushes a door ajar, avoids putting strain on his healing hands when he finds a man sitting in the middle of a cafeteria, a plate of hot food on a table and a book in his hands. He's absolutely stunning, lush blond hair tucked behind his ears, some of it tied haphazardly into a bun. Bright skin illuminated by the fluorescent lights above, brows furrowed in concentration. But then, he looks up, a hawk-like stare directed at Yuuri in a matter of a single second.

Yuuri forgets how to breathe.

He's seen this man in a million pictures, commercials, and a few movies. Plisetsky. Fuck, he looks even better up close.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Yuri says, a sneer on his wonderful face.

Yuuri's caught off guard, and he shyly gathers himself up, all the while suffering under the suffocating gaze of the younger man. Shit. He's fifteen. What is he doing here?

“Yuri? Yuri Plisetsky? I'm a big fan of your work –“

Yuri purses his lips, and goes back to his book, not looking at Yuuri anymore. Seemingly disinterested.

Yuuri rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I'm sorry if I interrupted you...or..something.”

“You did,” Yuri says, apathetic. “Do fuck off and let me study in peace.”

It dawns on Yuuri before Plisetsky stands up dramatically, never looking away from his book and storms out of the cafeteria, shouldering past Yuuri without a second glance. He smells strongly of flowers and fresh mint, but Yuuri's too struck to register what just happened.

Yuri Plisetsky. A thief.

 _A high-class thief_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I didn't expect so many people to comment and leave kudos?????? 
> 
> Thank you so much. Although I am completely winging this.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes three days to acclimate to the whole castle, learn the ways he fits in between golden tapestries and other students. There aren't many people inside of the castle itself, Yuuri learns, as Victor likes working with all of them privately. No one talks to him when he eats, no one spares him a second glance. It's awfully silent.

He doesn't see Plisetsky again, although Yuuri unconsciously looks for him among the seven people sitting in the cafeteria for breakfast.

The food is savory. Heavenly. Good enough that Yuuri wolfs down everything on his plate, and goes for seconds. The cafeteria waitress smiles at him politely, and Yuuri ignores her pity over how weak he looks. He wakes up in the morning, surrounded by exquisite luxury, and still feels like he doesn't belong. Looking like an outsider in an expensive suit, he walks around the castle until he knows every crook and cranny, knows how the grass outside feels underneath his feet and recognizes the smell of lemon and wet dogs when he stands next to the gates.

The third day proves to be the best one yet. He makes an unexpected friend.

Victor strolls inside of his room early in the morning, carrying a small bundle of things in his left hand. Handing it to Yuuri, Victor grins. “Congratulations, we're starting you on a daily face-care routine.”

“A what?”

Victor gestures at his own face. “Maintaining nice skin is essential, and I've brought you instructions along with products I'd like you to try on your own accord. See which ones are best for your skin type, look out for break-outs, and don't forget to exfoliate.”

Yuuri just stares at him.

Victor points at the bundle. “It's all here. I've also prepared a reading list.”

“Alright.”

“The assignment is due this Friday.”

Yuuri nearly chokes on his breath when he sees four books written in neat handwriting. “Wha – are you insane? I can't read all of this in two days.”

Victor is relentless. “You can, and you will. Being a thief requires quick skill, and extensive knowledge.”

“You're forgetting I've only been stealing wallets and wrist-watches for a few years, I'm hardly the criminal mastermind.”

“Yes,” Victor says, smiling. “But you managed stealing from _me_. You're going to do just fine.”

So Yuuri ends up sitting in the gardens, holding a book about different types of roses, and looking up to see the sun lazily peeking through the intricately decorated glass. Being this fucking bored, he finds even the slightest distraction more interesting than different types of European roses.

_What have I gotten myself into_ , Yuuri thinks, clinging to the pages of the book, his suit uncomfortably hot. He loosens his tie to give himself more air to breathe, unbuttons the top of his sleek shirt and gets comfortable in the cushioned seat situated between two very dangerous looking flowers. Their colors are vicious, but he likes them looming next to the seat.

Yuuri only notices the wagging tail of a visitor once the dog lets out a bark loud enough to make him jump out of his seat.

Their eyes meet, and Yuuri is frozen. The dog is a fluffy brown mess of happiness, moving his whole body along with his tail, unable to contain his obvious delight that Yuuri took notice. Sniffing air, the dog barks again, this time a stranded sound coming from the back of his throat. A question. 

Yuuri stares, dumbfounded. He's never seen this dog running around before, not among the pack of canines strolling around the premises. Outside. Not in the garden. 

The dog has a collar, a royal blue one, striking against the fur. Yuuri extends his hand out, politely waving his fingers. Answering. _Come_ _here little guy_.

And he comes, ears down and the tail still wagging crazy fast. Yuuri buries his good fingers into the fur when the little guy sits down next to him, smiling to himself throughout the whole process.

“Where did you come from?” he asks, and checks the collar to see _Makkachin_ written in bold letters. 

Makkachin doesn't leave his side for the whole day. Yuuri goes through two books before he catches himself this calm. 

 

* * *

 

Yuuri's first private lesson with Victor comes Friday, and his eyes hurt from reading this much. So far, he memorized enough about different kinds of flowers and ways to brew beer in hot summer nights. Nothing substantial, in his humble opinion.

Victor waits for him in one of the classrooms, delicately sat on a burgundy armchair whereas Yuuri situates himself on an uncomfortable pillow-like mustard colored cushion. Today, Yuuri looks tired, but his face has a sheen of new-found energy.

“I see you've been eating well,” Victor comments, nonchalantly brushing stray hair away from his eyes. Yuuri follows the gesture, thirsty to see it again. There's a small victorious feeling seeing Victor this relaxed in Yuuri's presence. Like he doesn't mind Yuuri's current state, like he's keen on seeing Yuuri this weak among other students who shine from a mile away.

Yuuri shrugs. “I need my energy if I want to catch up with the others.”

Victor raises one eyebrow, his lip corners tugging up. “Have you talked to them?”

“Just one.”

“He's not overly impressed I chose you,” Victor says.

Taken aback, Yuuri gapes for a second. “Why would you ask me if I talked to anyone if you already know the answer?”

“I wouldn't have known if Yurio didn't approach me himself. He's angry I've ceased to teach him while you're here.”

“I don't follow.”

Victor gets more comfortable in his seat, and Yuuri is jealous for a split second. His legs are starting to hurt from the pillow. “I'm sure you've wondered why none of them want to talk to you.”

“It hasn't really been an issue,” Yuuri admits. He likes the silence. He likes learning alone. 

Victor hums under his breath, watching Yuuri like a hawk with searching eyes. It's like Victor sees through him. “It will prove to be an issue eventually. I'd like you all to work as a team, and I see my decision to teach you, and you alone, hasn't been a smart one.”

Yuuri's eyes widen, his heartbeat picks up. “What do you  _mean_ you're only teaching me?”

“They're more than qualified to learn by practicing now,” Victor explains. “I'm giving them assignments, which they carry through without fail. I see no further need to give them private lessons, but alas, they're angry at you for stealing their spotlight.”

“I didn't ask for this,” Yuuri says, suddenly embarrassed and slightly ashamed. He doesn't want to steal Victor from anyone. 

Victor leans in, and touches the side of Yuuri's face, the tips of his fingers delicately brushing against Yuuri's skin. “I'm not changing my decision,” he says almost in a whisper. “You have great potential, and I'm going to see this through. I've got one favor to ask of you, though, if I may.”

Yuuri's lost in Victor's eyes, unable to see the bottom, gasping for air as he sinks in. “Anything.”

“Show them what you can do,” Victor says, confident. “Earn their respect.”

Yuuri swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down with great strain. It's not that he wouldn't say no, he's set on discovering how far he'd go for Victor now that he's invested in this. It's that he doesn't want their respect. He wants Victor's. 

“Alright,” he says, finally, hoping Victor wouldn't catch the lie hissed through Yuuri's teeth. “Whatever you want.”

“Good,” Victor says after a pause, his eyes narrowing. “Now, on with our lesson. I want you to name me three types of roses you can harvest in winter.”

 

* * *

“What did he say?” Yuuri asks when they're done with endless questions Victor fired through in thirty minutes of their time. Victor hands him a new list of books, this time due by next Monday. They have five minutes to rest before Victor coaching him. “Plisetsky.”

Victor clicks his tongue, lost in thought. “It doesn't concern you.”

“It does concern me,” Yuuri says, annoyed a little. Something tugs at his heart, like a small knife cut between his ribs. “He treated me like garbage when I met him.”

“He's acrid, yes.”

“Plisetsky isn't an escort,” Yuuri says. “I don't understand why he's joining your business when he's a well-known actor. Wouldn't he be a liability to your whole plan?”

Victor grins. “Oh, he's not here to steal anything.”

Yuuri's eyebrows furrow. 

Before he can ask the inevitable question, Victor beats him to it. “Yurio is the sole reason why I think you'll surpass my expectations. I'm giving you an assignment. Befriend him.”

Holding the small list of books, Yuuri groans, pissed off because the pillow underneath him is horrible, and because he doesn't want to talk to the blond god again. “I haven't seen him since, how am I supposed to befriend him if he's ghosting around?”

Victor nods at the list. “There are a few books on friendship and manipulation in there somewhere. Read them. Observe. Make me proud.”

At the words, Yuuri flushes red. His good hand is shaking, and he scratches absent-minded at the binding on his broken fingers. “You're supposed to teach me.”

“I'm already teaching you,” Victor says, his smile gone. “If you can't complete the assignment, you're not worthy of my trust, or my funds. I need you to understand that you're going back to prison if I don't find you capable to wrap someone extremely smart around your finger. Do it to Plisetsky, and I'll know you're listening to me.”

Yuuri nods, fear unraveling inside of his gut. 

Victor claps his hands, face radiant again. “You have two months,” he says. “I want to see results before we can start training you for everything else. This gives you time to heal, and to prove yourself.”

Yuuri's lost and Victor carries on, explaining high-end wine in great detail. Shaking, Yuuri takes notes on whatever Victor tells him, cataloging everything inside of his head and at the same time, stressing over Victor's words. 

He wants this, Yuuri realizes. He wants Victor's approval, and wants to succeed. 

He wants to see Victor beaming at him as they bathe in their glory, hand in hand and victorious.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a week. I keep forgetting to mention I travel a shit-ton, and every month I disappear somewhere in the world without my computer. Anyway, I like updating every day, so I raise a glass of wine to celebrate I have enough time to write.   
> Thank you for your support, guys, I'm honestly blown away by the comments, and kudos, and everything. Wow.   
> If there's plot holes or grammar mistakes, there's no one to blame but my fat ass. Should've planned this better.


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri stays in the gardens far more than he stays anywhere else. Mrs Nishigori finds him sitting in the same chair with Makkachin happily snoozing away while Yuuri bores himself with yet another philosophical nonsense book Victor advised him to read. 

“We've arranged a doctor for you,” she says instead of saying hi. Yuuri barely looks at her. 

“My hand feels fine.”

She sighs. “Victor says you have trouble moving your fingers. I'd fix it for you if I had any medical competence, which means it'd be better if a real doctor took a look at you.”

Yuuri puts the book down and pets Makkachin, who opens one eye. “What are you qualified for anyway? Aside from the mystical mumbo jumbo.”

She laughs. Yuuko looks like a wonderful woman, bright and warmly saturated. Yuuri's been observing other students after Victor asked him to prove himself, and somehow, Yuuko outshines all of them. He's been curious about her.

Yuuko puts her hands in her the pockets of her creamy colored jacket, letting her hair fall on her face, making her look younger. “Victor ever tell you how we met?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “He never talks about his life with me. Only drills on about how  _important_ it is to know things.”

“Typical of him,” she says, and sits on the seat in front of Yuuri. She contrasts wonderfully with all the green around her. “I'm sure you know he comes from a family of riches.”

“Who doesn't?” Yuuri says, scratching Makkachin's ears. “Anyone with common sense knows.”

“But not all of them know Victor didn't inherit anything when his father died.”

“What?”

“Oh yes,” Yuuko says, leaning into the seat more and crossing her legs. “He and his mother were left with nothing. Even this castle didn't belong to them, so essentially, they were homeless, penniless, and mourning.”

“But,” Yuuri says, disbelieving. “I don't understand. I remember his father dying when I was little. I remember watching TV and seeing him attend events with his mother.”

Yuuko huffs out a breath. “Only the Nikiforov lawyers knew what was going on. Victor had to trust his gut and charm to claw back to the top.”

“What did he do to earn his money back? If we don't count his uh... escort service. Did he earn his money through stealing? Is that why he's playing this escort game and teaching us how to profit from the rich?””

“It's not my story to tell,” Yuuko says. “As far as I know, he's never stolen anything in his life.”

Yuuri's temporarily shocked.  All these years he's watched Victor attend parties, give interviews, hang out with celebrities all over the country. Nothing makes sense.  Even before Victor's escort company went sky high, he was at the center of attention on every news tabloid on the market. He's been named the most powerful man in the country twice. 

“So how did you meet, then?” Yuuri asks, the book forgotten. Makkachin grows restless and leaves them both be.

Yuuko waves her fingers nonchalantly. “Before, I was a gymnastics coach,” she says, eyes closed. “Had a private little gym and a steady income. Takeshi and I, we've been married for quite some time when I opened it, and the business was thriving. Until we had children.”

“You have children?”

“Three,” she says. “My little girls. Treasures, really. The gym I owned wasn't enough to feed my whole family, so I had to take out a loan.”

Yuuri gasps. “No.”

She chuckles, her eyes glimmering. “I know what you're thinking. Taking out a loan these days is basically a death sentence for a family. But I was desperate, three children and a jobless husband does that to you.”

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that corporate nightmare.”

“But I didn't.” Her eyes flash something wicked. “I went through a lot to find Victor Nikiforov, and earn my family a good life.”

“Did he... loan you money?”

This time, Yuuko gets up, suddenly her face powerful and still serene. “Even better. He offered me a job and a home for my family.”

Yuuri's wide eyed, fingertips pulsing with excitement. 

“The reason why I trust his judgment is simple; he taught me the basics of hypnosis, and left me in charge of teaching his students grace and simple gymnastics. During my free time, he would give me assignments, quiz me, took me to various parties and asked me to blend in. Yuuri, he chose you the same way he chose me. You're going to do something great. If he believes in you, I believe in you too.”

Yuuri's silent for a beat, watching her in a new light. Gulping down, he says, “How did you earn his trust?”

Yuuko grins widely. “I used my mystical mumbo jumbo to charm my way into this life. My first assignment was to steal money from a bank owner.”

A bank owner. Yuuri's heard of people being lynched for even trying to touch anything expensive in a bank, seen what happened to some of his friends when they've taken out a loan from these sharks. So many of his comrades were left to rot in prison cells for even looking their way.

“Holy shit,” Yuuri says. “Holy fuck, how did you even get away with – “

“Trust in him,” she interrupts him, and extends her arm for Yuuri to grab. “Let him help you.”

Yuuri thinks for a second, then takes her hand and goes to see the doctor.

 

* * *

 

He ends up with newly broken fingers, and a cast. It hurts like a bitch, but Yuuri doesn't show the extent of his pain when he comes into the classroom on Monday, finding Victor sitting in his armchair again.

Victor stands up, rushing over to the door, and gently tugs at the cast. “Show me.”

Yuuri's startled because of the proximity, but Victor smells nice up close, invoking a small blush on his face. “There's nothing much to show. The doctor said my fingers weren't healing up right, so he had to rearrange them.”

“Did they give you anesthetics?” Victor sounds worried, thumbing at the white cast. 

Yuuri shakes his head. “I asked them not to. I'm done with being drugged out of my mind.”

Victor nods understandably. “High tolerance for pain, I gather.”

“Not really,” Yuuri says, when they move to sit in their appropriate places. He misses Victor's touch on him. “I've been trying out some of the meditation techniques in one of your books. Having a clear mind helps me forget the pain is there in dire need.”

Victor's eyes narrow. “There's no dire need now,” he says. “I could get you some pain killers.”

“There is,” Yuuri breathes. “If I want to prove myself to you.”

Victor doesn't comment, just begins their lesson. The air around them feels ignited, and Yuuri tries his best to listen to Victor talking, but his eyes wander off. Victor's collarbone. The side of his cheek. Ridiculously polished pin on his suit. Victor's lips, moving endlessly. 

For the first time in two weeks, Yuuri forgets to listen and loses himself in Victor's voice. It's as if Victor notices that Yuuri's mind wandered off, but doesn't acknowledge it in the slightest. He keeps on talking and admiring the way Yuuri looks into his eyes, mouth slightly open and body relaxed. 

It takes a while for Yuuri to notice Victor's done talking. Suddenly, he's embarrassed, and is about to apologize when Victor holds up his hand. 

“You can't help it, I know,” he says softly. “I've got to warn you this will go nowhere.”

Yuuri's ears are red now, too. 

“I'm not averse to my students developing feelings for me,” Victor says, incredibly calm and put-together even when Yuuri's clearly hyperventilating. “It's a natural, human feeling, but I do advise you to suppress it.”

“I wasn't planning on making a move on you,” Yuuri says, rushing. His heart beats like a thunderstorm, and he's sure Victor hears it too. “You're just...aesthetically pleasing.”

“I consider your feelings for me a weakness.”

“I don't have feelings for you,” Yuuri protests. “I don't.”

“You're watching me like I'm a delicacy,” Victor says, head leaned to the right. Vicious. “I'd suggest not letting whatever you feel cloud your judgment. I hired you to be strong.”

Yuuri's teeth clench. “For the last time, I don't feel anything but respect for you. You're beautiful to look at. Am I not allowed to admire a teacher?”

Victor licks his lips, and Yuuri's bastard eyes wander there. “Ah,” Victor says, a hint of a smile there. “You need a reward for listening, I presume.”

Yuuri refuses to look Victor into his eyes. “I don't need rewards. Like I said, this is not going to be a problem.”

“Don't bullshit the master of bullshit,” Victor says, and it's so weird hearing a swear word from him that Yuuri's heart jumps like crazy. “If you pass every single one of my quizzes with no mistakes, I'm going to take you on a date.”

Yuuri starts coughing uncontrollably. “What? No.  _What?_ Victor, I don't need you to  _date_ me.”

Victor clicks his tongue. “I'm not offering. It's a one time only surprise holiday with yours truly.”

“This doesn't sound like a very rewarding reward.”

Victor leans in closer, and Yuuri catches a whiff of Victor's delicious smell. He's dizzy with it when Victor smiles at him. “I'm going to let you look at me,” he says. “And I'm not going to lecture you on it. I cannot offer you a relationship, but I can offer a day where it looks like it.”

Yuuri considers it. 

Then, Victor huffs out a breath. “I'm going to take you as my date to a Yule Ball in Winter.”

Fuck. Yuuri's hands sweat instantly, and he wipes them off on his slacks. “You're crazy. The papers will eat this up.”

“Is this rewarding enough for you?” Victor asks. 

“You've never brought anyone as a date. Anywhere. I don't – I don't understand why _me_ now. Do you want to get swarmed with journalists and paparazzi?”

“You do,” Victor says, and Yuuri finally knows Victor has him all figured out. “You're destined for glory, and I'm going to give it to you.”

“I'm not – “

“I'll be yours for one day,” Victor ends the talk. “Do we have an agreement?”

Yuuri avoids answering the question out loud. His mind buzzes a million miles per hour, and he can't stop looking at Victor's lips. His mouth goes dry, and he manages a tiny nod. 

Victor looks downright godly when he sits back and closes his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT
> 
> Establishing plot now! Wow!   
> Don't worry, Yurio's coming to play soon enough. I kind of had time to plan this out a little better, and everything will fall into place.   
> THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS, I will need to sit down one day and respond to every single one. I will, I promise!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW OOPS, i'm so sorry. I participated in a Secret Santa for Destiel this year, and had a few pinch hits to write for some drop outs, which delayed this chapter. And I'm really hoping I'll have more time to write as I'm going to Japan for work in two weeks. I'M NOT ABANDONING THIS, FEAR NOT. 
> 
> (sorry for any grammatical mistakes, or any typos. I'll correct them if I see them. I don't have a beta, and I don't have time to revise :( )

It's official. Yuuri hates skin care.

The gooey substance in his palm makes him sick to the stomach, the smell weirdly medicinal, something he's only experienced in pharmacies when he stole drugs for his friend who had a fever. It makes him feel nostalgic, thinking of his old life and old friends. He doesn't know what happened to any of them, and doesn't care to find out.

Applying a generous amount to his face proves to be difficult, but taking care of the overflow makes him look closer at his cheeks, eyes, and lips. No longer chapped, they look soft and plump. No more black circles. His cheekbones are covered in a small layer of fat, and for the first time in a few years, Yuuri sees himself healthy. Even walking seems easier now that he thinks about it.

There's a knock on his door, and he turns to greet Yuuko, who strolls inside of Yuuri's room without a second thought.

“How's your hand?”

Yuuri shrugs. “Better. Shaking, but better.”

She nods, and sets down a new set of clothes for him, including sweatpants, sweatshirt, and some formal wear that isn't a suit. Yuuri finishes applying the cream on his skin and closes the cabinet. Walking over the bed, he takes notice that Yuuko looks tired.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asks, digging through the pile of clothes.

She smiles, and sits down on one of the futons. “I am. Thank you for asking.”

“You can tell me if something's wrong,” Yuuri says. “You know that, right?”

She looks at him for a second too long, and sighs. “There's some...backlash against you. I've been dealing with it, but it's excessively tiring.”

Yuuri snorts to himself. “Not even two weeks here, and I have rivals. It's ridiculous, I haven't even talked to any of them.”

“Maybe you should,” Yuuko says. “They don't understand why you're suddenly Victor's favorite, and they're getting antsy. Why don't you show them _why_ you're being pampered by Victor?”

“I'm not being pampered. I'm being manipulated into action.”

“He can be hard to understand, yes, but it's all for the better,” Yuuko says.

Yuuri stops folding his clothes, and turns to Yuuko, one hand on his hip. She watches him closely, her breath shallow. “He gave me an assignment to befriend Yuri Plisetsky, who I haven't seen in two weeks. How is that considered pampering?”

Yuuko licks her lips. “I'm not supposed to say anything.”

“But?”

“But Victor's worried about Yurio. He's been avoiding everyone, successfully, might I add. It's not like him.”

“Why doesn't he check up on Yuri himself?”

Yuuko pours herself a glass of water from the jug on the table next to her futon. “Victor's a busy man.”

“Oh yeah, that explains _a lot_. He's _busy_.”

“Don't get angry at him,” she says softly. “He's doing whatever he can for all of you.”

Yuuri cleans up the clothing piles, puts them inside of his closet and picks up his books from his bedside night-stand. Yuuko seems to get the idea, and stands up after drinking her cup of water. She doesn't look less tired.

“You can always back out,” Yuuko says. “But remember once you do, there's no coming back. Try befriending him, and others. It'll be good for you.”

Yuuri gives a small nod, clutching the books to his chest. “Right. Thank you, for everything.”

She smiles and leaves the room.

Yuuri's heart won't stop beating harshly against his rib-cage, drumming so hard he's out of breath when he gets out of his room and goes to the Gardens. He's dizzy, angry, and confused at the same time. His thoughts are already consumed by Victor and the way sunlight falls on his naked skin, how his hair falls gracefully on his forehead, and his voice sounds like music in Yuuri's head. It's becoming a problem to hide it from himself, and from everyone else. Yuuri's praying Yuuko didn't notice his dilemma.

Once he's in the Gardens, Makkachin appears out of nowhere and lets Yuuri hug him out of frustration. The books go unnoticed, and Yuuri doesn't touch them for the whole time Makkachin blesses him with his presence.

 

* * *

That evening, Yuuri goes down to the cafeteria, numb to everything but the smell of food. He chats with the cafeteria lady, earning a second helping of pudding, and grabs his tray. His fingers tremble, his heart doesn't stop ramming against his chest, and when he turns, it's almost as if he sees the cafeteria for the first time.

There are more people sitting around now, some in groups of three, some alone. Yuuri's used to seeing the same seven faces, but today there's laughter and chatter around, somewhat calming. He ignores the looks of distaste from a few groups, and decides that he's going to ignore how scared he feels. One person, he notices, sits alone and barely eats. The boy is pretty handsome, his burgundy suit making him look enchantingly young, his dark hair unruly.

Yuuri takes a few breaths, calms himself with a few techniques he learned from Victor's books and strolls down to sit next to the boy. He's seen him around, sometimes sitting alone, sometimes surrounded by friends.

Once he plops down, the guy looks up, confused and brows furrowed. Yuuri's stomach clenches, but he doesn't let his gaze drop down.

“Am I interrupting?” Yuuri says, giving a shy smile. “I can move if it makes you uncomfortable.”

The guy gapes at him, then blinks twice before shaking his head. “No,” he says. “No, it's fine.”

Yuuri can feel eyes on him from everyone in the room, so he just digs in, wolfing his food down. The guy still stares at him, his food untouched.

Yuuri chews, nerves ablaze. “We've never talked before, haven't we?”

“Not really,” the guy says, pursing his lips.

“Sorry,” Yuuri says, setting his fork down. He extends his hand over the table. “I'm Yuuri.”

One moment, it looks like Yuuri made the wrong call sitting down to a virtual stranger. The next, the guy grips Yuuri's hand, and shakes it firmly. “Phichit. Phichit Chulanont.”

It's hard for Yuuri to contain his glee in succeeding to make acquaintance with at least one person. They release the grip, and Yuuri smiles at his new companion. “Nice to meet you. I haven't been exactly cooperative these few weeks.”

Phichit shrugs. “Give it time,” he says. “None of us had any idea what we were getting into the first time Victor approached us.”

Yuuri's eyebrows go up. “He approached you?”

Phichit looks less uncomfortable now that Yuuri isn't showing any aggressive signs, but he looks at the people further away from them. He takes a bite of rice. “Yeah,” he says. “I worked with social media before I came here. What about you?”

Yuuri winces. “Uh... I'm kind of... indebted to him.”

Phichit snorts, poking his food with a shaking hand. “Who isn't?”

“That's true,” Yuuri laughs nervously. “Glad to know I'm not the only one.”

Phichit is silent for a second. “You're the only one he teaches, though. Your debt must be massive.”

Cringing, Yuuri sighs. “I'm afraid I don't have a choice in anything Victor does. I feel like I'm stealing him from all of you.”

Phichit looks at a table a few rows away from them, and the group of people glare at him like they're going to murder him. He glances at Yuuri apologetically, then takes his tray and stands up. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn't – I can't talk to you anymore.”

Yuuri's heart freezes, and he says, “Wait – “

But Phichit is already moving away, dropping the contents of his tray into one of the trash cans next to the cafeteria door, and he doesn't look back. Yuuri's stomach feels hollow, and this time, the murderous glares are fixated upon him.

He finishes eating, then returns to his room, absolutely devastated. It's been going so well, but the stares keep getting to him. Now that Phichit is out of the equation, he's got to do something about the problem at hand. Yuuri thought about the castle, and every nook and cranny he searched just to find Yuri, and to no avail. His enthusiasm to learn and prove himself to Victor has been simmering down for a while, and his constant failure to do anything successfully has Yuuri almost pulling his hair out every morning he wakes up. It's stressful, it makes him angry, and disappointed in himself and Victor, who isn't of any help when Yuuri even brings up the assignments while they're studying.

Deciding to try again, Yuuri reads one of the books for homework, forgetting most of what he's reading the second he turns a page. _One more time_ , Yuuri thinks to himself. _One more time, before I give up_.

 

* * *

 

When he enters Victor's classroom, the first thing he does is throw the books on the ground, making Victor jump in his seat. Victor's dressed in a dark violet suit, which not only looks beautiful on him, it also makes Yuuri incredibly hot in the cheeks.

“Take Yuri as your student again,” Yuuri says, pointing his finger at Victor. “I can't find him anywhere, and he's sure as shit too smart to lure out of his hiding place.”

Victor gives him a grin. “Wouldn't that be a direct way for me to interfere with an assignment I gave you?”

Yuuri sits down on the cushion, looking at Victor's wonderful sparkling eyes. “I'm not asking for help, I'm just asking you to stop being a pompous asshole and take one more person under your wing. I tried making friends with Phichit, but he refuses to talk to me because you've been hoarding me and ignoring everyone else for the sake of teaching me thievery basics, which, to be honest, I already know.”

Victor's silent, but smiling. Yuuri takes it as a silent approval to go on.

So he continues, “I've got a plan,” he says. “But I need you to just take him as a student. That's all I'm asking for.”

“I'd really rather not,” Victor says.

Yuuri's getting frustrated. “You know, I'm really thankful for your guidance and all, but you're not thinking this through. Making me a target for other students won't help me make friends with anyone, and your damn assignment is impossible without at least a little bit of leverage.”

“You've got leverage,” Victor says. “You're friends with one person already.”

Yuuri squints. “Making friends with your employee isn't exactly leverage when she refuses to help me.”

Victor is smiling even wider now. “You don't consider me a friend, then?”

Yuuri's even more confused now. “I don't – “

“Pity,” he says, leaning back in his chair, dramatically sad. “And here I thought we'd be exchanging friendship bracelets today.”

“Are you serious?” Yuuri breathes out. “You want me to be friends with you.”

“You've been doing quite well, Yuuri,” Victor says. “I'm just disappointed you haven't thought of persuading me using our friendship.”

“You're my teacher.”

“Am I giving you grades?” Victor says.

“No.”

“Then ask me again.”

“What?”

“Ask me to take Yuri as a student.”

Yuuri's dying inside already, pissed. All of this bullshit conversation is too confusing, too weird for him, but it's the only way to get what he wants out of Victor without taking any chances of getting kicked out of the castle. “Victor,” he says, trying to control his emotions. “Please take Yuri as your student. It'd help please my teacher.”

Victor wiggles his eyebrows. “No.”

Yuuri drags a palm down his face.

“Not until you ask Phichit to find Yuri for you.”

“I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Phichit said he can't talk to him.”

“Can't?” Victor asks. “Or won't?”

Yuuri thinks about it. “You haven't seen how other people reacted when I sat down with him. I won't risk his integrity and his own friendships just so that I can achieve something I can't do alone.”

“Tick tock,” Victor says. “Either you do it, or don't. I'm giving you an out because I consider you my friend. It's your own choice, Yuuri.”

Fuck. What has he got to lose? “Whatever,” Yuuri says, thinking a million miles per hour. “I'd like to get on with the lesson now.”

Victor smiles knowingly, but doesn't comment on it again. Yuuri's stomach threatens to tear in two, but this time, a plan is blooming inside of his head. Maybe, just maybe, he can actually succeed this time.

 


End file.
